


Define Dancing

by trufflemores



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Meta, Speedsters in loooove
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 23:36:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9852071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trufflemores/pseuds/trufflemores
Summary: "There is nothing like it."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lovely backtothestart02 (Lauren), who requested a Quickwest fic ages ago. My dear, I hope you enjoy. Title inspired by the movie 'Wall-E.'

There is nothing like it.

When Jesse runs, she knows what Barry means when he talks about the "wind and power." The whole world slows down. Her very breath comes to a near standstill. Time feels tangible. If she closes her eyes, a new world unfolds, one shaped by Speed Force. And best of all? She can dance in it.

Golden sparks rise from her heels, skating across the grass like fireflies. She bows gracefully to no one, eyes afire. It's a cool winter night without snow, her breath clouding visibly before her, but her anticipatory shivers have little to do with the temperature. She slides into a crouch, a hush falling over an unseen crowd.

Then she leaps into motion. She curves and lunges and dives in yellow sparkler-streaks across a sea of unchanging blue grasses. The blades swish and sway magnetically to her rhythm, pooling outward in slow motion. The earth cannot keep up, but it is cheerful and childlike, mimicking her motions just a step behind. To an outsider, her motions are like an aurora: nothing seen but indigo sky and azure earth exchanging a joyful glow.

There is no purpose to it, but from an Earthling's perspective there is no known purpose for stars, either, except for their aesthetic pleasure. They exist. They exist joyfully, obliviously, profoundly, caught between cycles of life and death. Intensely, immediately alive, they burn and burn out, leaving their stories in the night sky.

Jesse flares and fades as she runs, her view shifting faster than her comet trail of lightning can keep up. Puppies chase their own tails; intersecting her own still-visible lines, Jesse can see why. In a complicated world, it's fun to stop asking why. To simply exert, to run because she can, to play because she wants to.

She moves slowly for a speedster, savoring the echoes she leaves in her wake. Such is her languorousness that when he arrives, her Interruptor appears as a red streak, zig-zagging across her sightline. Her living yellow streaks leap and curl around the electric red that chases them. When he crashes into her, it's stunningly gentle, her golden knight in shivering red taking her by the hand. He swings her out elegantly and reels her back in, his laughter against her lips when she kisses him.

It only takes a moment for them to find the same rhythm, their lightning curling around the space like cats. Wally nuzzles her shoulder as she wraps her arms under his, hands flat against the back of his shoulders. He radiates warmth with an intensity that reminds her of a crackling fire. Fine by her; she's always been a blanket-cape kind of gal.

She wonders if he's a blanket-cape kind of guy. In her mind's eye, she throws a bright blue blanket over his shoulders, tied at the neck and fluttering dramatically behind him. She can't help but laugh; he knocks a knee against hers inquisitively. Rather than respond, she presses a kiss against his cheek and steps back.

They share love like lightning, running side-by-side until it's impossible to tell where her lightning ends and his begins. They chase dust skyward against a perfect starry background. Slipping out of reach, they do so _literally_ , unfailingly drawing a laugh. When the night is deep and dark and perfect, they skid to a halt, panting in pleasure.

"Wow," Wally says.

Jesse plants her hands on her knees. "Wow," she agrees.

When they run For The Job, they don't have time to appreciate the simpler joys of running. They're mission-driven, task-focused; there is no room for poetry. Motion comes with exhilarating ease, yet it remains a means to an end.

Here, in the empty plain outside the city, there is _only_ room for poetry.

By unspoken consent they sink to the ground, her head resting on his chest as their gazes fix skyward. They have a city, a city that has them, but Jesse knows it in her bones: they're stardust, too. For once, she's just fine letting the city fend for itself.

For a little while, anyway. Closing her eyes, she can feel the hum of Speed under Wally's skin. His chest rises and falls as he breathes, slowing gradually until it isn't clear if he's still keeping their vigil. She finds she doesn't mind. If she gets to be off guard, then he does, too.

It's hard to tell how much time passes - in speedster terms, it almost doesn't - but at some point Wally shifts a little, and the spell passes. Sleepiness enters the equation; she yawns and he nudges her lightly, encouraging her to stand. With a half-hearted grumble she obliges, taking his hand to pull him up, too.

Wally's house - Joe's house; Wally's attic - isn't far. It only takes them six seconds to ski to a halt outside the door. She's yawning with almost every step as they climb the stairs to the front porch, gingerly pushing open the front door. Joe isn't up, but his presence lives in the room, a case file with a coffee stain sitting on his unoccupied chair, an extinguished lamp casting the room into twilight grays.

Wally's hands on her waist guide her past the entryway. He slips off his boots with a deep, silent yawn, encouraging her to do the same with a nod. Leaving her to it, he prowls into the kitchen.

She listens to him raid it with ursine intent, reappearing at the base of the stairs with an entire box of protein bars. He's also got a couple big bottles of water under one arm, nodding towards the stairs - _shh_ , he says without saying - and letting her lead the way.

They polish off the bars sitting cross-legged on the hardwood floor, a blanket spread out between them. Even careful, every bite still crunches quietly, but Joe doesn't tap on the door with a grunted admonition. Surely, Jesse surmises, Barry in all his lumbering bear grace creates a greater commotion on a regular basis. If Joe can sleep through that, then it doesn't surprise her that he sleeps through a couple speedsters surreptitiously depleting their high-calorie stash.

They polish off the waters and Wally tip-toes loudly into the adjacent bathroom to refill them. Sitting back down, he leans against her as much as she does him, shoulder-to-shoulder, bumping his bottle against hers with a happy little smile. _Cheers._

Twice more he makes the perilous journey to the adjacent bathroom, their appetites outlasting their conversationalism. He's all but snoring against her shoulder when she gives him a nudge, pushing him towards the bed. Crawling, he slides on top of the covers - still Speed-warm, Jesse muses, as she crawls on top of him.

A deep sigh relaxes every muscle in her back, taking with it a tension but leaving behind the joy. When he wraps his arms around her, she realizes that there isn't just one Speed Force to get lost in.

She could stay here forever, too.

And, she thinks, eyes closing, his heartbeat sinking with hers, she isn't the only one.


End file.
